Page 63 of Inside Silence
First there was Sheriff Colter’s visit—Savvy’s father, that is—which kind of shifted everything I thought I knew off its axis. After he left, I took my coffee out on the deck and spent a good hour just sitting there, staring out at the mountains, trying to process it all.
Then the neighbor, the Good Samaritan who came to my aid, pushed his own lawnmower all the way across the street and started mowing my lawn with nothing more than a wave of his hand, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
And finally, Hugo Alexander showed up at my door, with a coffee and a breakfast sandwich from Strange Brew, courtesy of Bess, he said. He also had a box of groceries Brenda at the station asked him to drop off.
This is so unlike anything I remember from before. People caring enough to volunteer to help out, law enforcement showing up at my door for anything other than to hound me, and more than anything else, Brant Colter apologizing to me after finding his daughter basically rolling out of my bed.
It’s like I woke up in an alternate reality from the one I knew, and I’m having a bit of a hard time finding my equilibrium.
The world sure has changed in this town.
Or maybe I’m the one who has changed. I’m definitely not the same since coming back here. A lot of the anger and resentment I’ve worn as a cloak almost my entire life seems to be sliding off me. All those negative experiences I have carried with me kept me an outsider my entire life, but now I wonder if I wasn’t the one cultivating that divide.
This morning it felt like Silence may be welcoming me inside.
I tuck a pillow under my head, and briefly close my eyes, lying on the couch. As much as I feel generally okay, I also feel perpetually tired. I tried watching a bit of TV earlier, but that brought about a bit of a headache, so a nap seemed a better option, but doesn’t seem to come easily.
Although, when there is a knock on my door an hour and twenty-five minutes later, I realize I must’ve dozed off after all. I gingerly get to my feet and head to the door, wondering who it could be.
“Hi,” I say to the woman on my doorstep. “Can I help you?”
“Are you Nathan?”
I’m a little cautious in my response. “Who wants to know?”
She smiles disarmingly. A very attractive older woman who reminds me a little of the actress Andie MacDowell. A bit of a hippy, judging by the beads, flip-flops, and flowy fabrics. She doesn’t look like someone who’d try to sell me insurance or some service I don’t want.
“I’m sorry. Of course, you don’t know me from Adam. My name is Phil—short for Phyllis, in case you wondered—and I’m Brant Colter’s wife, and I guess Savvy’s stepmother.”
I almost laugh, the idea of this colorful woman with stuffy Sheriff Colter strikes me as funny, but I manage to hold it back and instead nod politely.
“Nice to meet you.” Curiosity drives me to add, “Would you like to come inside?”
She beams a smile at me and steps into the hallway.
“I don’t intend to take much of your time.”
I gesture for her to precede me into the living room, where she confidently perches herself on the couch’s armrest. This woman probably feels comfortable anywhere.
“What…um…can I do for you?” I prompt her, choosing to remain standing.
“First of all, I want to apologize for my husband. I’ll have you know he’s effectively in the doghouse until further notice. Overprotective buffoon,” she mumbles under her breath, before flashing me another smile. “And for the fact he so rudely interrupted what clearly was a cozy morning with Savvy.”
The woman obviously has no filter either, and I have to say, I like her more and more.
“It was,” I feel compelled to confirm.
She gives her fist a little pump. “Yess! I knew it, and I’m absolutely thrilled. I was afraid Savvy would start to prune up before her time.”
That has me laughing out loud. What little I know of this woman; I have a feeling Phil probably has told Savvy herself as much on occasion. She doesn’t seem the type to hold back much.
I’m not sure how pleased Savvy will be when she finds out her stepmother was cheering on our early morning tryst.
“But…the actual reason I’m here is to invite you. Friday night we’re throwing a little end of summer cookout, to kick off the Harvest Fest on the weekend, and would love for you and your daughter to come. I’m afraid I’m not very organized and it’s turning into a bit of a haphazard potluck event, but it should be good fun. Just bring chairs and if you’re into fishing, a rod, or we can probably rustle one up. Oh, and tell your daughter to wear jeans in case she likes riding. We have horses,” she rattles on. “There will probably be other kids her age.”
Who would’ve thought I’d ever be invited back to the Colter household. I shake my head. Maybe it’s a little too soon, and I hadn’t really planned to be part of any community events, but it would be good for Tatum, and I’d have a hard time refusing this woman. She’s a card.
“I make a pretty mean Bombay noodle salad and I’m sure I can get Tatum to help me bake some brownies for dessert.”
